


Inevitable

by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All the Fluffiness in the World, Cotton Candy Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Kinda Fic-Not!Fic, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/howl-to-the-wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t just a kiss. It’s the inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote two versions for this, one for Arrow’s [Olicity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1248910) and one for Teen Wolf’s Sterek. It's basically the same, save for a few changes here and there for each couple. They totally fit the theme of the story I wanted and I am currently shipping them so hard it hurts, especially given the recent episode for each series.
> 
> Totally not beta-ed. Please tell me if my tenses are off. I don’t always write in present tense so it might get wonky at some places.
> 
> Kudoses and comments are always appreciated. Enjoy.

They kiss.

That is all.

There are no candle-lit dinners or dozens of roses, because Derek is touchy about fires and Stiles isn’t into that kind of romance anyway. There are definitely no wine glasses, because werewolves don’t get drunk and Stiles doesn’t really care for getting drunk, not when supernatural emergencies tend to pop up when they least expect them. And there are certainly no twittering birds, or lilting background music, or overwhelming fireworks, or a romantic rainfall. There are no roaring crowds, or applause, or a nosey pack watching from the sidelines with their chin in their hands and ready to set loose wolf-whistles and catcalls.

It is just a kiss, just a long press of lips, of Derek’s careful hands cradling Stiles’ face and his thumbs stroking his cheeks reverently, of Stiles’ long and slim fingers tangled in Derek’s hair and one hand clutching the back of his shirt. It’s of Derek’s strong body fitting against Stiles’ lean one in a not-quite-perfect slotting together that is still perfect simply because it is with each other and no one else.

If this story is meant to be poetic or dramatic, I will go on about feelings, racing heartbeats, or the rush of warmth emanating from each other’s bodies. I will tell you all about the _‘finally’_ and _‘want this’_ and _‘want you’_ and _‘so much’_ and the long, angst-filled tale about Derek’s fears and Stiles’ pain. Of the months of uncertainty and the way they dance back and forth, never moving away but never moving completely forward. I will tell you in great detail about how they desire – oh, how they desire so much – and how they wonder, and how, when they want it so much that it hurt, it finally, finally happens, and the earth seems to shift and things finally make sense.

If this story is supposed to convey tension and passion, I will probably tell you all about the long and heated glances, the moments of barely-there touches, the shove and pull and push that masks the want and need. I will tell you about the words that are misunderstood and the more important ones left unspoken, of the lingering glances unseen and the subtle signs unnoticed. I will tell you about Stiles’ inappropriate jokes and timed innuendos, or of Derek’s witty jabs and not-so-subtle touches and heated glares, or the constant back-and-forth that has no purpose other than to goad and provoke and arouse. I will tell you about the betting pools and the schemes and the long planning of a well-meaning but exasperated pack.

If this is an Explicit-rated story (because we all love that), it will be a first kiss that happens just before sex. I will write about how the kiss goes deeper, firmer, more wanting, more heated. I will write about multiple love bites, of clothes torn, hands that roamed, and hips that rolled and twisted just right. I will write about breathy moans and whispered promises, of shouts of ‘more’ and screams of ‘yes’. I will tell you about how amazing it is, how new, how good, or probably even how horrible. I will write about how Derek goes from gentle to rough, takes them from wall to bed to floor to bathroom and everywhere in between, and about how Stiles knew just what to do with his tongue and lips and fingers.

But this isn’t meant to be any of those, not at all. I’m not here to talk about the long story that led to that kiss, of the build-up of emotions and affection. I’m not here to tell you about the part that comes after, about the happily ever after, or maybe even the not-so-happily ever after that follows. I’m just here to tell you that they kiss.

They kiss.

And it’s easy, like something natural, like a breath of fresh air in Derek’s lungs after the smell of ashes that has been there for so long, like Stiles waking up from the best dream to see that reality is just as perfect.

Their first kiss happens just after one of their more dangerous encounters with the supernatural, after Derek is slashed on the back and Stiles almost gets mauled, when adrenaline is still pumping through their veins and their senses are hyperaware, when they feel high, like they can take on the world, like they can do anything, like nothing else matters except this second and this moment to make sure of their reality, to make sure of each other.

I cannot tell you why it is obvious, why it is the one time that feels most right after every other incident that has happened in their lives. I cannot tell you that it is because seeing Derek protect his family, his pack, with everything he has, and seeing Stiles willingly put himself in danger because it’s his family and his pack and his Alpha too, makes them realize the need to stop denying, to stop running away from a home that’s already there and waiting for them.

I cannot tell you all that because I don’t know.

This is just a story about a kiss, a kiss at Derek’s loft with the pale moon shining bright and proud through the tall glass windows.

As in most stories, I am probably supposed to end it now by telling you about the much-coveted ‘I love you’ that comes after, of how it’s the kiss that changes everything, or the kiss that starts something. But I can’t, because this is not that kind of kiss, not when everything has long since started and has been slowly changing in best and most unpredictable of ways.

This is a story about a kiss.

But it isn’t just a kiss.

It’s just…

…the inevitable.


End file.
